


Small comforts

by wolfypuppypiles



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Blood, Comfort, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Helen has been through a lot, Panic Attacks, Philip is always looking after people, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, hes so pure and good, i know that doesnt seem likely given the other tags bit its a happy end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfypuppypiles/pseuds/wolfypuppypiles
Summary: Seeing his foster mother in so much pain was hard and it wrenched his heart in his chest. So he did the only thing he could.He took a pot from the cupboard and placed it under the sink as he turned the tap on, letting the water fill the pot and then overflow, filling the small kitchen with the smooth, rippling sounds of the water. The sound of the droplets and running water were soothing and he hoped they helped Helen the way they often helped him. (Philip finds Helen having a panic attack and helps her through it.)





	

Philip sat on his bed and scrolled through his playlist, searching for the perfect song to get him in the mood to do his homework. His concentration slipped when he heard a noise, just faint a whisper of sound. 

He froze, pulling his headphones out and waiting to see if the noise came again. He heard it, louder now, and knew it was coming from the kitchen downstairs. Philip frowned, confused, because the only other person home was Helen but the noise sounded like sniffling.

He crept out of his room, staying quiet as he went to investigate the sound. He was careful of the stairs, making sure to skip the ones that creaked, and as he made it to the bottom, he realized what the sound was. 

Helen was crying. Her breaths were heaving and desperate, the air tearing through her throat as she tried to breathe, and Philip recognized this pattern of noise. He had had panic attacks before and he knew one when he heard it.

He didn’t want to intrude on something so personal but he also didn’t think he should just leave her alone either. So he crept into the kitchen behind her and tried to see if there was anything in the room causing the panic. 

He didn’t see anything particularly triggering and she was around guns and dead bodies a lot anyway with her job so maybe that wasn’t the cause. 

Helen was crying through her panicked breaths as he quietly begged someone to stop, to just let the children go, and her hands were in her hair, gripping at her head. So maybe it was just the memories and thoughts causing this. 

There wasn’t really anything Philip could do, especially because he didn’t think she was aware enough to know he was even in the room. She didn’t have any medication at home for this, though he had heard Gabe say that she used to. 

Seeing his foster mother in so much pain was hard and it wrenched his heart in his chest. So he did the only thing he could.

He took a pot from the cupboard and placed it under the sink as he turned the tap on, letting the water fill the pot and then overflow, filling the small kitchen with the smooth, rippling sounds of the water. The sound of the droplets and running water were soothing and he hoped they helped Helen the way they often helped him. 

Philip also hated for her to think she was on her own in all of this, and so he quietly took the chair next to hers.

The awful voices and memories in her head must have been screaming because she kept shaking her head as if to shake the demons out, so Philip gently took one of her hands from her head and held it, palms pressed together as his fingers wound with hers. 

She didn’t look at him but he thought she must have noticed his presence, at least subconsciously, because her other hand came away from her hair to grip at their clasped hands.   
He sat there, watching her carefully, for a while until she slowly started to calm down. Her breaths weren’t so hard earnt now, no longer being dragged through her desperate gaping mouth. Philip watched her face as she opened her eyes and took a shuddering breath. 

She didn’t sound like she was suffocating anymore and her grip on his hand wasn’t as tight. 

She was just blinking, eyes still a little glassy as her tears continued to fall. Philip wanted to comfort her but also knew she might need space so he simply leant his head on her shoulder, silent comfort and touch so that she would know she was safe, that she was here. So, that she could use him as something to ground herself with. His fingers pressing to hers, the soft weight of his head on her shoulder, his slow, even breaths. 

One of her hands came up to bury its fingers in Philips hair, massaging the curls in rhythmic strokes so that she could calm her heart to the steady pace of her fingers through his hair. 

Helen came slowly back to herself, images of murdered children giving way to newer memories. Gabe smiling as they said their vows, early mornings on the quiet water of the lake, Philips smile as they looked at old photos together, and the way he laughed when Lukas hugged him from behind, pressing his nose into Philips hair.

She was here now, and she was safe. 

She looked down at the weight on her shoulder and saw Philip there, calm, and quiet against her. He was absentmindedly rubbing a hand over her forearm as he gazed lazily out the window. 

Helen wanted to cry all over again. This sweet boy had pulled her out of the darkest pits of her mind with nothing but patience and quiet understanding. 

Her heart swelled with love for her son and she kissed the top of his head as she sniffed the last of her tears away. 

Philip looked up at her, reassuring smile ready to make her feel better as he squeezed her hand.

“It’s a really nice day today, you wanna read on the porch with me?”

Helen nodded and followed him outside, still shaking a little, where they lay out blankets and pillows and read in the sun together until Gabe came home to join them.

It was sometimes hard to remember that her blood-stained hands were only so covered because she bore that pain so that others didn’t have to. She was a Sheriff, and a city cop before that, so that other people’s hands could stay clean and it was hard to see that the blood there was a mark of sacrifice and strength and not murder. 

But Gabe and Philip were daily reminders that she could be a part of something beautiful and her life could be more than just hers and others pain. She had a husband and a son that she loved more than anything and the amazing thing was that they loved her too, even knowing her past they loved her. And even more importantly, they made her feel that she was deserving of that love. 

She wasn’t sure how to thanks them both for saving her each and every day but she hoped they both knew. 

Philip rolled over on the blanket bedside her and took out his Polaroid as Gabe came to lie beside them. Philip took a picture of the three of them, smiling and bathed in sunlight, and Helen's hands had never felt cleaner.


End file.
